


Collections

by cellard00rs



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Character Death, Drug Use, F/M, Humor, Incest, M/M, Multi, Romance, Sensuality, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-17
Updated: 2016-06-17
Packaged: 2018-07-15 15:07:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 7,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7227391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cellard00rs/pseuds/cellard00rs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of drabbles based on prompts from various quotes. Ranges from Teen!Stans to Older!Stans and some <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/4861232/chapters/11140511">Coffee Stains and Cigarettes</a> inspired works. Various ratings and ships. Contains slash, incest, and sensuality throughout.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Number 22. Can I Open My Eyes now? Ship: Teen!Stans

“Can I open my eyes yet?” 

“No.”

“…how ‘bout now?”

This gets Stan a huff, and while he can’t see Ford’s face - he knows his twin is annoyed, “ _No_ , Stanley. Not yet.”

Stan shifts where he stands. He’s got his right hand over his eyes and it’s starting to sweat. The palm is damp and it’s gross and he’s impatient to know why Ford dragged him out to the beach in the middle of the night. He’s pretty sure it has something to do with the boat, but he has no idea what.

He hears some vague banging in the background and then a bright curse and he goes to peek but Ford snaps, “Nuh uh uh! Don’t look!”

“C’mon, Sixer, this is stupid! Just let me-!”

“Just another second!”

“Ya said that like, seven _million_ seconds ago!”

“Just…” Ford trails off helplessly but Stan still keeps his eyes covered because he promised he would. Finally the noises die off and he hears Ford saunter over to him, panting, “Okay, okay - you can look now!”

Stan drops the hand and does indeed see the boat, but he doesn’t notice anything different about it. Not until Ford takes his hand and tugs him closer, “Look, look!”

He points near the wheel and Stan’s eyes widen. There’s a brand new compass affixed to one side as well as tiny plaque. The plaque is the best part, because it says ‘Property of Stanley and Stanford Pines’. 

He turns to Ford who looks just as hopeful as he looks nervous, “I-I saved up my money and got us this. I mean, the compass I got from the Shop, so that was nothing, but the plaque…well, I mean…I…I just thought…”

Stan reaches out and runs his fingers over the words with wonder. His face, however, must be an emotionless mask, because Ford’s getting even more anxious, “I mean, I hope you like it. I put your name first because this boat was more your idea than mine and I-I, well, I figured I mean…you’ve-you’ve done so much for me, Stanley and I wanted to pay you back, y’know? Give you something just for being you. Kind of-of show you how much-!”

The words are cut off abruptly as Stan turns swiftly and kisses him.

He kisses him and then draws away just as swiftly, as if he does such things all the time, “This is GREAT, Sixer! Can’t believe you did alla this for _me_!”

Ford blinks once. Twice. Stan looks at him and frowns, “Whatsa matter?”

“You…you kissed me.”

Stan blinks once. Twice.

“Oh… _ohhhh. Fuck,_ ” Stan runs a hand over his face as he turns red, “I…no. NO. Did I? No, I…I didn’t…?”

Ford nods and Stan feels sick because he knows his brother is _right_. He kissed him! Oh shit! Oh no! Oh dammit! Stan starts talking rapid fire, “Look, Ford. I wasn’t-I wasn’t _thinkin_ ’, ya know? I was just…I was happy ya did somethin’ so nice for me and-!”

Now Stan’s words are cut off by Ford, by _his_ kiss. Stan lets out a bewildered noise, then a rumble of pure adulation as he kisses him back. He thought the compass and the plaque were great gifts, but this? Their first true, real kiss? This is the best gift of all _time_.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Number 29. Prepare to be amazed. Ship: Stancest

“Prepare to be amazed.” 

“I doubt it,” Stan grouses but Ford looks unperturbed. He draws out a thick journal and waves it at Stan, “Ta da!”

“So, that’s it?” Stan grumps, “ _That’s_ the big surprise? One of yer stupid journals?”

Hurt flicks over Ford’s face briefly, “You think my journals are stupid?”

“I think your journals got us into one helluva mess, so, y’know - yeah. They’re not my…most…favorite…thing,” Stan’s words starts to slow as Ford begins to look more and more morose. He clears his throat, “But that doesn’t mean I won’t, ah, take a look at that one or whatever. If you want.”

Ford looks slightly mollified, “Well, this one is _quite_ different from the journals you know of. Journals one, two, and three…”

“Yeah? So what’s this one? Number four? You start’a new one on yer travels?”

His brother’s lips twitch, “You…you could say that.”

He hands over the journal. This one is indeed different from the others. It’s black and the golden, six fingered hand in the center has a ‘X’ instead of a number. Stan raises an eyebrow, “Ten?”

“Not exactly. Go on. Open it.”

Stan opens it and scans the first few pages. He’s only a few words in before he starts to turn red, “ _Sixer_! This-this is-!”

Ford offers a smug grin, “Yes.”

Stan flips through it, wide eyed, “You…you _documented_ your…your sexual encounters? With-with-!!!”

“Let’s just say there are a _lot_ of unique creatures in the multiverse.”

“Holy shit!” Stan opens a page to him, “Is this a fucking three headed  _dragon_?!”

Ford shrugs, “It was nothing.”

“Nothing?! How the hell can you-?!”

“Those don’t matter,” Ford assures him, “I know you’ll probably wish to peruse it later, but first, I’d like you to jump to the middle.”

“Th-? Why?” Stan flips until he reaches the middle of the book only to find the rest of the pages are blank. Blank except…

Stan swallows thickly, “Ford?”

“Yes, Stanley?”

“Why…why is my name on the top of all of these pages?”

Ford looks crafty as he edges forward and kisses him. The kiss is short but meaningful. Stan looks shell shocked, “No, but really…”

“Stanley,” Ford chides and Stan flips through the middle onward, “There’s…there’s a LOT of pages here.”

“Yes.”

“Do you…do you want _me_ to help you fill them ALL?”

“That’s the plan, yes.”

Stan quickly tosses the book aside and gathers Ford close, “Well then! Better get started!”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Number 45. I think I made a mistake. Stancest

It’s been a quiet day on the boat. So much so that Stan’s taking to fishing and he’s leaning back in his deck chair, sort of half sleeping. He’s also sort of half annoyed. Mainly because Sixer keeps…looking at him.

He doesn’t do it for long. He just wanders in and out of the main cabin. Ford comes out, looks at Stan, opens his mouth, closes it, goes back into the cabin. He’s done this at least three times. Probably more since Stan’s closed his eyes. 

Now Stan just hears him come out, hears a little intake of air, and then hears him leave. Slowly but surely it’s working under Stan’s skin until finally he lets out a growl and sits up right, glaring at him, “Alright, alright! Out with it!”

Ford looks a little startled by the outburst. He’s half turned to leave again and he licks his lips, “I-I beg your pardon?”

“C’mon, Sixer - you’ve been floatin’ around me all day. What the heck do ya want?”

Ford shifts on his feet and looks nervous and Stan feels like a bit of a heel for enjoying it so much. But, well, when Ford first came out of the portal he was so ‘action hero’. Nothing like the brother he grew up with. It’s nice to see him now, a little more back to the person he recognizes. The person who has traits quite in line with Dipper’s.

Ah, Dipper. Poor kid. Stan knows he was harder on him than he should have been but, well, it was hard being around someone who reminded him so much of someone he lost. Not that Mabel was easy to be around in someways either - reminding him so much of himself.

Hell, some of the best things the kids ever did was when they acted the complete opposite of Ford and himself. And, as always, thinking of the kids reminds him that he needs to contact them. Needs to see how…

“I…I think I made a mistake,” Ford admits and the words snap Stan from his thoughts. Stan grins, “'Course ya have. Whatcha do this time?”

Ford glares at him and Stan sees his fists clench and unclench. He grins but his stomach feels like water. Teasing Ford is a whole new experience now. His brother’s travels changed him and he’s never quite sure how his twin will respond. He doesn’t want to fight. He _doesn’t_. But…

Instead of a fight, Ford just deflates and Stan feels worse. He goes to say something, _anything_ , to make him feel better but Ford closes his eyes and speaks softly, “I was wrong about you. I was…so foolish. I should have…I should have looked for you sooner.”

Stan has no idea what the hell he’s talking about but Ford explains, “When Dad kicked you out I was…I was so _angry_. And I let him fill my head with all these-these lies and then I went to school and I focused on that and I..”

He curses and runs a hand through his thick hair. He opens his eyes and looks out over the vast ocean, avoids looking at Stanley, “I just kept making this mistake over and over again. Kept convincing myself that I was better off without you and that…I don’t know. It doesn’t matter. It was extremely idiotic and you…”

A dissatisfied grunt leaves him, like he can’t say exactly what he wants to, but he keeps trying, “You went through so much and I feel like it’s my fault and I should have gotten over myself and forgiven you sooner and _you_ were the one, Stanley. _You_ were the one to save the day and defeat Bill. For all my knowledge and my training, what good was I? What good _am_ I?”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Stan gets to his feet, forgets all about his fishing pole and walks over to Ford, who’s still not looking at him. He takes his brother’s shoulders in his hands, “You’re plenty good, Sixer.”

“But…I’m-I’m not,” Ford answers softly and, good god, are those tears in his eyes?! Stan feels his chest constrict and Ford just keeps on, “I made a mistake. I messed up. I ruined everything and I can’t-!”

“Stop it,” Stan hisses and collects him close, hugging him tightly “Stop it.”

This is a part of Ford that he remembers far too well. One he didn’t mind Ford getting over. His brother doubting himself, thinking less of himself. Stan knows how this feels. He doesn’t want Ford to feel it. Not ever. It’s pretty much why he’s done everything he’s done in his life. Protect Ford, take care of Ford, love…

He draws back and Ford is still kind of misty eyed and he offers a weak smile, “Look, were you a jackass? Yeah, you were. But you weren’t, y’know, one hundred percent wrong. Mean, I coulda contacted you. I tried! I tried plenty of times but I never went through with it, so…I mean, it works both ways, right?”

Ford doesn’t look convinced, so Stan presses on, “And as for Bill, I mean…okay, yes, you DID summon a demon and almost destroy the world, but I…I mean, I have unpaid parking tickets…”

The laugh that ripples out of Ford is watery but Stan takes it, smiles, “It’s okay, Ford. It’s _okay_. You might’ve made a mistake, but you made up for it. And you _are_ worth something, alright? I don’t wanna hear no different. Not even from you.”

Ford looks into his eyes and Stan feels his heart kicking hard behind his rib cage. A shy smile lights his brother’s face, “Thank you, Stanley.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Number 27. Can we go someplace high so I can jump off it? Mystery Trio (Stan, Ford, Fidds) Coffee Stains and Cigarettes verse

“Can we go someplace high so I can jump off it?” 

“Ah, it wasn’t _that_ bad, Fidds.”

“That bad?!” Fidds cries at Stan, “That’s BAD?! Are you _insane_? I tried to talk ta Susie and made an ass of myself!”

“I think he’s right,” Ford offers gently, “I really don’t think it was that bad, Fiddleford.”

“You two are certifiable!” Fidds moans, “Were you not even _there_? I looked that precious angel in the eyes and all I could get out was ‘date’ and when she asked me what I said, what did I do, huh?”

He asks and neither looks eager to answer so he turns to Stan and presses, because he was the first to have the audacity to say it wasn’t _that_ bad, “What did I do, Stanley?”

Stan clears his throat and scratches at the back of his neck, “Ya…sorta screamed it at her?”

“I SCREAMED it at her!” he wails and he looks so miserable Ford can’t help but wrap an arm around his shoulder, giving him a friendly shake, “Fidds, I really think it’ll be alright. I mean, yes - you yelled in her face and yes, you ran out of the diner right after and yes, Stan tried to explain it away by saying you have weird outbursts like that all the time-”

“YOU DID WHAT?!” Fidds shouts and Stan looks away, starts whistling, while Ford continues, “-but the important thing was, you made an impression. Right? I mean, before now, she probably didn’t even know you existed so-!”

Fidds shoves Ford away and turns to the twins, eyes squinty, “Ohhhh you two are gonna pay for this! Mark my words!”

“Why the heck are we gonna pay? _You’re_ the one who can’t string two words together around a waitress,” Stan chuckles and next thing he knows, Fidds has him on the ground. It happens so fast neither brother is prepared for it and Stan lets out a yelp as Fidds twists his arm back. He’s not doing it too roughly, but it sure as hell isn’t comfortable by any means and Stan starts smacking the asphalt beneath him, “Uncle! Uncle, man! YEESH!”

Fidds lets him go and then advances on Ford who holds up his hands in surrender, “Whoa, whoa, whoa! I get it! _We_ get it! Don’t we, Stan!”

“We get it,” Stan grumbles as he gets to his feet and rubs his arm, “We’re sorry, Fidds.”

Their friend deflates, “No, Stan…I’m-I’m sorry. I was just…it…it was so embarrassin’.”

Stan offers him a little smile and nudges him, “Look. Next time we go in there, how’s about I fart, huh?”

The words jostle a laugh out of Fidds and, pleased to see his friend happier, Stan presses on, “No, seriously. I’ll fart around her. _Real_ loud and _real_ long. She’ll forget all about the ‘date’ thing. And Ford, he’ll - you know, he’ll just be there.”

Ford looks at Stan with a frown, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you’re face is embarrassin’ enough on it’s own, so…” Stan laughs as Ford takes a swipe at him and the three friends keep walking, spirits high.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Number 44. If you really loved me there wouldn’t be a choice. Stancest.

Stan can’t believe this. 

He really can’t.

Ford is..

Ford is-!

“You’re an _asshole_!” Stan hisses and Ford rolls his eyes, “Stanley…”

“I can’t _believe_ yer gonna do this to me!” Stan groans, “Your own brother!”

“You’ll be _fine_ , Stanley.”

“No,” Stan huffs crossing his arms, “I won’t! I ain’t never gonna forgive you for this! Not _ever_!”

“Stanley, I’m sorry - truly I am. But this is a decision I have to make.”

“If you _really_ loved me there wouldn’t be a decision. You wouldn’t have ta make a choice!” Stan snaps and he gets teary eyed and Ford’s head falls back at the sight, eyes on the ceiling of the boat’s inner bunk, “Oh my god, Stanley! The fake water works, really?”

“They’re not _fake_! They’re _real_!” Stan insists and Ford glares at him, “You’re telling me that you are legitimately crying right now because I’d rather work on my new journal than have sex with you?”

“YES,” Stan grinds out and Ford makes a face, his gaze focused back on his work as he continues his writing, “I highly doubt that.”

“Well, I highly doubt this boner’s gonna go down unless you do something about it!”

“ _Stanley_!” Ford gasps in shock and his pen juts from his hand awkwardly, marring the page he was working on. He looks down at it and scowls, clearly thinking it’s ruined. Stan shifts about on his bunk, “We’re not getting any younger, you know. So, if something like this comes up, you should always choose me over-!”

“You want me to choose you over my journal?” Ford growls and the predatory gleam in his eyes makes Stan’s pulse jump, “ _Fine_. I’ll choose you. Hope you’re ready for this…”

Ford tosses the journal aside and clambers over top of Stan. 

And Stanley is not ready.

Not at _all_.

And he absolutely fucking _loves_ it.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Number 8. Your smile is not as bright as it used to be. Coffee Stains and Cigarettes verse. Ford and Preston - Fordwest

“So…what’s up with you?”

Preston blinks, confused, “I’m sorry?”

“Exactly,” Ford chuckles and at Preston still lost expression he sighs, “Guess I’m not as good at that joke as Stan is…”

Preston still has no idea what on earth Ford is talking about, but it’s nice that - for once - he’s mentioned his missing brother’s name without winching. Still, Preston doesn’t know what Ford’s talking about until Ford offers, “It’s just, I’ve…well, I’ve noticed your smile is not as bright as it used to be.”

“I…I’m not sure how to answer that?”

“Come on, Preston. You know what I mean, right? Like, when you smile it’s not so…sparkly.”

“Are you implying I need to brush my teeth?” Preston runs a worrisome hand over his mouth and Ford shakes his head, “No, no, no! I mean you’ve seemed kind of down. And I want to help if I can. I mean, I know I haven’t exactly been a joy to be around since…”

He stops and Preston waits for Ford to talk about Stan, yet again, as he does almost every day. But instead he doesn’t. Instead it’s almost like he knows it’s not a good idea, so he picks up with, “Ah, well, what I mean is - I want to help _you_ , if I can.”

“Help me?” Preston hates to sound be so repetitive but he really can’t help it. He honestly doesn’t think anyone has ever offered to the help him. Helping a Northwest’s unheard of. What kind of help would a Northwest need? Their lives are perfect. Still…

 _This is a bad idea_ , his thoughts chant, _this is a bad idea, this is a bad idea, this is-!_

“Well, I…I suppose you _could_ help,” Preston finds his mouth answering for him, despite his inner thoughts.

“Great! What do you need?”

“I…advice, I suppose,” Preston hedges, “I will admit I have been troubled of late, which might explain my more dimmer demeanor. A smile that is less than bright.”

“Okay - so, let’s hear it? What’s the problem?”

Preston chews on his bottom and upper lips and thinks again about what a bad idea this is. It’s absolutely a bad, stupid, awful idea to just-!

“I like someone,” the words sneak out of him, high pitched and humiliating. Ford blinks, looking owlish and surprised and the absurd image of kissing him jumps to mind and Preston wants to strangle himself. 

“Oh! That’s…oh! Who?”

“It doesn’t matter!” this comes out with an even higher pitch, the words breathless with desperation, “He - _she_! _She_ doesn’t know and she,” he deflates sadly, tone soft, “She won’t have me.”

Ford frowns, “I can’t see how _that’s_ possible. You’re a real catch, Preston.”

“Why? because I’m wealthy?” Preston snorts with no humor, “Yes, that’s quite a remarkable trait.”

“It’s not the money,” Ford argues and even the look Preston shoots him doesn’t stop him, “You’ve got lots of amiable qualities.”

“Up to a few months ago you _hated_ me, Fordsy.”

“I never hated you,” Ford insists, “I’ll admit - I wasn’t a fan, but I didn’t know you then. Not really. But I know you now and now I know there’s a lot of great things about you.”

“Such as?”

“Well, you’re smart…maybe not a genius like Fidds and I, but you’re definitely above average. You’re funny, you have unique interests - like flowers. You’re good looking…”

“I’m-you think I’m-?!” Preston colors, “No! No, I’m-I’m not, ah!”

Ford levels him with a glance, “Preston, I think you _know_ you look like a fairy tale prince.”

“I…do?” Preston hates his treacherous heart for lifting at the compliment. More so when it begins to damn near tap dance as Ford nods and smiles, “Yeah! Super handsome! Anyone would be lucky to have you.”

“Would you?” They both stop walking and Preston looks around as if a ghost just floated in and said the words. But he knows they came out of him. He just…blurted them out. Maybe Ford didn’t hear? Maybe-!

“Would I what?” 

Fuck.

Preston struggles with how to answer, how to explain himself. Finally he manages, “I meant if-if you were the girl in question, the girl that I like, the girl that’s a - a _girl_ , would you be lucky? To…to have me?”

Ford looks at him and Preston waits, worries, wonders…

“Sure,” Ford assures him and he pats one of his arms, “Sure, I’d be lucky to have you.”

 _Good_! His thoughts shout, for once (thank god, thank god, _thank god_ ) not leaving his mouth. Instead they spiral non-stop through his head. _Good, because it’s you. I like you. I like you a lot, even though I’m not supposed to. I like you, even though you’re a boy. I like you, even though I can never, ever be with you. I like you, Stanford Pines._

Preston looks at Ford and wonders if he can hear his thoughts. Ford smiles and Preston heart somersaults. Then Ford pats his arm again, “How’s about we go get some milkshakes?”

Huh. Well. Mind reading’s out then.

Preston thinks he’s grateful for that as he smiles back and nods.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Number 9. Don’t call me that! Coffee Stains and Cigarettes verse. Preston and Stan - Prestan. NSFW. Sex.

“Don’t call me that!”

Stan lets out a laugh that’s more breath than anything, “Thought you said it was okay if I called you that.”

“Yes! But-but…not,” Preston shifts beneath him and looks away, cheeks crimson, “Not _now_.”

“What’s wrong with now?” Stan purrs and lowers his head near Preston’s neck. He starts licking and biting the skin he can reach and Preston whimpers, closing his eyes tight to try and focus, “You’re…we’re…ah, it just- it seems demeaning for you to call me that right now!”

Stan draws up enough to level him with a look, “Demeaning?”

“Yes.”

“To call you ‘my prince’ right now?”

Preston swallows audibly, “Yes.”

“Just cause you’re under me,” Stan doesn’t ask, so much as state this. Preston sighs, closing his eyes because not looking this…this sexual conqueror in the eyes while he’s talking helps a great deal, “Yes, I am under you and I…well, I highly doubt a prince would allow himself to be…to be _mounted_ like some animal whooo- _waaaa_!”

The end of the word comes out in a weird cry as Stan takes a firm hold of Preston’s hips and rolls him over top of him. Their bodies are still locked and Stan nudges Preston up somewhat, “There! Problem fixed, _my prince_. So how’s about you get to work?”

“Get-get to-?” Preston starts to ask, but Stan lifts him up again. Moves him just enough so that his rigid cock brushes against the back of Preston’s firm backside. Preston lets out a mewl at the feeling and Stan tone is guttural, “You wanna be the prince? Wanna do the mounting? I got a throne for ya…”

Preston lets out a moan and nods before lifting himself up just enough so that he can lower himself, impale himself, on Stan’s length. He hisses, grunted curses leaving him because Stan is so, so _thick_. And he feels _amazing_. He’s filling Preston up and he wails Stan’s name as the man beneath him rolls his hips up higher, pushes _deeper_ and -

 

“HEY!”

Preston blinks and jumps up right, startled. The person who just shouted out the word gives an ugly laugh and it takes him a few moments to realize it’s Rick Sanchez. Preston blinks wearily and feels…trippy. Did he pass out? Where the hell is he? He looks down to see his clothes are rumpled and that he’s sitting up right in a carpet paneled van.

He can hear music coming from somewhere and Rick’s eyeing him with vast curiosity, “Where-where th’th’ - _hic_! - heck didja go, moneybags?”

“I,” Preston shakes his head and rubs at his face. It feels weird from being pressed into one side of the van while he’d been sleeping, “No where.”

“Yeah, yeah. Suuuuuuuuuuure. Whatever you say,” Rick laughs and he nudges him, “Think you’ll remember what we did this time ‘round?”

Preston’s memories slowly slot up, connecting to one another to form a clear picture. After the first time he, Stan, and Rick hung out he’d sworn never to do something so brazenly foolish again.

So, naturally, it was decided that it should become a yearly event. This is Crazyshitapoolza Round Two - or, at least - that’s what Rick calls it. Preston calls it yet another bad idea in a long history of bad ideas. God, how has he ended up in this mess?

Still -

“Where’s Stanley?”

“Off fuckin’ some shit up wit’ Birdperson! You had a few too many hits of this shit,” Rick waves a multicolored bag in his face, “Mix of smile dip, rainbow rexxors, and Diloxiade Twenty Seven - bet you were on one hell of an adventure.”

“Yeah,” Preston breathes out and he rubs at his eyes now. He scowls at the slight ache. He should stop now. He _really_ should. He should demand they take him home. But then he eyes the bag and thinks about how, in his mind, he’d _just_ mounted Stanley, how they’d _just_ started…

“I’ll take another hit of that, please.”

Rick’s grin is pure evil, “Anything you say…my prince.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Number 20. It’s 8:30, I have a hangover and you’re annoying me. Stancest. Some NSFW material. Mentions of sex.

“Man, Sixer - can’t hold yer liquor, huh? Thought you drank a lot of weird shit over in sci-fi land.”

The glare he gets for this remark is epic but Stan just laughs. He flips the pancakes and Ford stumbles over to the coffee machine, “Kids up yet?”

“Nope. Better not let ‘em see those bloodshot eyes of yours. Dipper’ll think your possessed.”

“Stanley, nothing that significantly supernatural has happened in Gravity Falls since we defeated Bill last summer.”

“Yeah, but that’s probably on accounta the fact this town adopted most of the weirdos into their society. Did you see the manotaur working the counter at the grocery?”

Ford just grunts and sips his coffee and Stan shoots him a sly look, “Although, there are weirder things.”

“Such as?”

“The sounds you were makin’ last night when I was balls deep.”

Coffee leaves Ford in a loud stream and Stan damn near breaks his ribs laughing. Ford chokes, “ _Stanley_! You can’t-can’t say things like that! The children are here!”

Stan pulls the pancakes off the stove and puts them to the side before he walks over to Ford and enters his personal space, eyebrows waggling, “The children aren’t awake yet. I, on the other hand…”

He edges forward and captures Ford’s mouth easily. His brother tastes like coffee and just trace amounts of the tequila he had last night. Ford lets out a muffled hum before he responds, just as eager. When they finally break apart, Stan beams, “See? Now was that so bad?”

Ford looks around with a bit of worry but, once convinced that the children are indeed still asleep, he can’t help but grin, “No, but you’re being right is annoying.”

“What can I say? I’m a smart fella.”

Ford just hums again and this time kisses him. They kiss one another until they hear the telltale sounds of feet padding down the stairs, the kids finally up. Dipper enters the room first and barely gets out a ‘good morning’ before he slips on the spilled coffee.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Number 25. My nightmares are usually about losing you. Stancest. Angst. Character Death.

“You gonna tell me or not?”

Ford shakes his head. Stan grunts and tries to pop his back. He looks at the clock. Christ. It’s four in the morning. He should just go back to bed. They got a big day tomorrow. They’re docking for supplies and lord knows they need them. If he has to eat fish one more time…

His thoughts shift back to Ford, who is sitting up and looking…haunted. It’s a nightmare. He knows it’s another nightmare. Not long after sailing out he discovered Ford’s full of them. Man barely sleeps through a whole night. Sometimes Ford will confide in him what the nightmare is about. Sometimes he won’t.

This appears to be one of those times, the one where he’s not going to get an answer. So! Bed! Stan turns to go back to it, only to hear a whisper. He doesn’t catch all of it, just a ‘you’ and he turns, “Huh? What was that?”

Ford doesn’t look at him. His eyes are downcast in his cold cup of coffee, “I lost you. In the dream…you died.”

“Well, I ain’t dead,” Stan chuckles, “So, nothing to…”

“It wasn’t because of Bill,” Ford moans, “Or some fantasy about some other supernatural creature it was…just…old age.”

He looks up and his eyes are watery, “We’re,” he swallows, “We’re older, Stanley. We’ve lost so much time. And I can’t get it back for us and I can’t…I need more time.”

“Ford,” Stan starts, but Ford’s just shaking his head, “I was lost and I was wrong and now this…this is all we have and it’ll probably only be for so long. Two, three years tops? Maybe more, but either way…it’s not enough. _It’s not enough_.”

“Stanford…”

Ford runs a hand over his face, a few tears escaping and he drops the mug. It doesn’t shatter but it clatters loudly as he whimpers, “I don’t want to lose you. I don’t want you to leave me. I don’t want to be alone and lonely - not anymore. Not after I finally got you back and I don’t want you to die, _I don’t want you to die_ , I _don’t_ -”

“Hey, hey,” Stan goes over to Ford, cuddles him close. He kisses the top of his head, “I’m not going anywhere, Sixer.”

“But someday…”

“Yeah, a million years from now.”

“Stanley,” he whines, “Not a million. You know it’s not-!”

“Ford, I’ve met a unicorn, fought zombies and you and me fought a triangle demon. It ain’t outta the realm of possibility that I might live a million years more.”

This earns a sniffling laugh and Stan hugs him tighter, kisses his head again, “We got time, Stanford. I promise you…we got time.”

And they did.

For about six more years. Three more than Ford predicted. 


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Number 15. That was a perfect example of how not to do things. Coffee Stains and Cigarettes verse. Ford and Preston - Fordwest

Ford pinches the bridge of his nose, “No. Let’s try again.”

Preston lets out a weary sigh and collapses into a nearby chair. He and Ford have been in the school library for hours practicing. Just - _practicing_. Again and again and each time he opens his mouth, _apparently_ he’s wrong.

“I don’t understand - what did I do wrong this time?!”

“Preston, you can’t apologize to Fidds because he ‘just can’t help being from the South’. There’s nothing _wrong_ with him being from the South.”

Preston opens his mouth to argue but Ford overrides him, “There’s _nothing_ wrong with it, Preston. Is there anything wrong with my being from New Jersey?”

Again, he opens his mouth and again he’s shot down, “Don’t answer that!”

Another huff and Ford crosses his arms as he leans against one of the library’s big tables, “Look, how would you feel if someone said, ‘I’m sorry you’re so rich, Preston’?”

Preston blinks, confused, “I’d feel like that person is a fool. Being rich is nothing to be ashamed of.”

“Okay, well - where Fidds comes from is nothing to be ashamed of either. Nor is it a bad thing that I’m from New Jersey. It doesn’t matter where you come from - it matters who you _are_.”

This is mulled over in silence for a few moments before Ford takes his own seat across from Preston and taps one of his knees, “Look, you want my friends to like you, right?”

“I…” Preston looks at Ford’s hand near his knee before he nods, “Yes. Yes, I wish to make myself more accessible.”

“Alright. Well then, you need to work on your people skills. It’s why we’re here. It’s why we’re practicing. But none of it will matter if you don’t put forth some real effort.”

“Confound it all, Pines, I’ve been trying!”

“I know,” Ford taps his knee again and Preston ignores the stab of enjoyment he feels at the simple touch, “But just…what you need to do is _think_ before you speak.”

“I take it this is what _you_ always do?”his tone is acidic and Ford has the decency to shrug and look sheepish, “Not always. I’ve hurt people before. Said stupid things…”

He trails off and gets that faraway look in his eyes that tells Preston he’s thinking about Stanley. Ha! As if _Stanley_ always thinks before he talks. Preston scowls, “I highly doubt you’ve said anything _that_ stupid.”

Ford smirks, “Oh?”

“Yes! I’ve chosen to take you on as a friend - I would _never_ befriend someone stupid!” Preston says this with absolute conviction and Ford laughs, which only serves to buoy him more, “However, I recognize and acknowledge your wisdom on the subject. I shall endeavor to not reference Fidds’ origins with derision.”

“That’s a good start,” Ford grins, “I think you should also apologize to him for doing so in the past.”

“Yes, yes - I am aware of the multitude of concessions I must make to your ragtag band of miscrea…compatriots,” He corrects himself and Ford looks so pleased that he’s sure if he was a dog he’d wag his tail or something else as pedantic. Pathetic.

 _Really, Preston_ , his father’s voice sounds in his head, _you’re humiliating yourself. And for what? This six fingered nobody?_

Preston closes his eyes and sucks in another loud breath, banishing the voice, his thoughts strong, singular. _No, sir. Stanford Pines is not a nobody. He is a man of true merit and if people such as Fiddleford McGucket and Susan Wentworth are his friends, surely they have merit as well. I merely need to see it. But first…_

“Hello, Fiddleford. You might know me, Preston Northwest, and I wish to offer my sincerest apologies for our previous interactions. I was short sighted and small minded and I hope you shall allow me the opportunity to rectify myself for my past transgressions. I also hope that you will permit me to deepen our acquaintanceship.”

He opens his eyes to look at Ford and Ford is…beaming.

“That’s great, Preston!”

Preston feels his lips twitch as they fight off a smile. 


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Number 26. I didn’t intend to kiss you. Coffee Stains and Cigarettes verse. This doesn't actually happen in this universe but is set there. Ford and Preston - Fordwest

Ford sees Preston and his steps slow. His friend is leaning against a wall in the Press Room, looking completely cool and composed. That is, until he catches sight of Ford. Ford finds himself halting, heart in his throat, anxiety washing over him in waves as Preston just…stares at him.

Will he walk away? Will he come over? Will he yell at Ford? Will he forgive him? Ford hurt him terribly and Ford wouldn’t blame him if he-!

Preston walks over with smooth, easy strides. His long legs easily eat up the space between them and before Ford even knows what’s happening he’s being gathered up and _kissed_. 

Preston is kissing _him_.

Ford’s eyes are wide and a startled noise leaves him, allowing Preston’s tongue to dip inside, to taste him. Ford’s own tongue rises hesitantly, sort of curious because, well… _this_ is happening.

Preston’s fingers play along the back of Ford’s neck, his spine, they hold him so close Ford can feel his heartbeat and then he draws back and looks at him, his face all dreamy.

For all of two seconds.

It then melts into one of abject horror and he shoves Ford away. he runs his hands all over himself and turns as deep pink as a raspberry as he snaps, “I didn’t intend to kiss you!”

It comes out as if Preston is fighting with him over the issue. Or, more likely, he’s fighting with himself. Ford just blinks and holds up his hands, “Preston, it’s-it’s okay. It was just a kiss, mean…you kind of owed me, right?”

Preston has big clumps of his dark hair in his hands and is tugging at it. He’s close to hyperventilating and muttering under his breath and Ford only catches bits. Parts about how thought he’d just imagined that, that he would never, ever, _ever_ do that in real life and _oh god_ , he did it in _real life_!

Ford wants to comfort him but Stan’s come over and he eyes Preston, ‘What the heck’s his problem?”

“Um…he kissed me?”

Stan’s eyes grow big and he looks at Preston, then back at Ford, then Preston again before he finally just shrugs, “Yeah. Okay…his reaction for kissing you’s right.”

Ford’s head rears back, “What?”

“Come on, Sixer. Don’t act like kissing you ain’t a big fuckin’ deal.”

“It’s…it’s not?”

“Psh, okay. Well, I didn’t see you react this way to kissin’  _me_.”

Ford looks shy, “I wasn’t worried, I was…happy.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes.”

“Huh,” Stan looks back at Preston who is pacing and looking more and more agitated by the second, “Want me to kiss him? Maybe that’ll snap him out of it.”

Ford laughs, thinking he’s joking, “Sure. Go for it.”

Stan starts charging over towards Preston and Ford has to hold him back.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Number 49. It sounds like you’re trying to convince yourself. Stancest

“It sounds like you’re trying to convince yourself.“

“Why shouldn’t I?” Stan waves his arms out, “Huh? Give me one good reason!”

“Stanley, I can give you a million,” Ford’s tone is gentle and Stan just blows a raspberry at him, “Highly doubt that.”

Ford gets to his feet and walks over to Stan. His movements are slow and methodical and they make Stan’s heart skip. He edges closer to the railing of the ship, feeling uneasy, then realizes this was a bad idea, because now Ford has him pinned.

His brother looks at him with intensity and Stan wants to look away but he forces himself to meet his brother’s gaze, not wanting to be weak. Ford speaks quietly, ‘Would you like me to number them, then?”

Stan swallows thickly, not answering, but Ford seems undeterred, “Alright then…reasons I am pursuing you as my romantic partner. One, you are attractive.”

Stan snorts at this, but Ford just cups his face in his hands, “No, Stanley. You _are_. You have gorgeous eyes, a nice mouth - a full, thick head of hair. A strong jaw, excellent profile…very beautiful.”

Another snort, but this one weaker, more halfhearted as Ford murmers, “Two, you are extremely intelligent. You activated the portal on your own, learned the knowledge necessary to operate it and you have an ability to read others that is uncanny.”

“Well, as a degenerate gambler…”

“Shh, shh. Take the compliment,” Ford urges, “I’m not done.”

Stan squirms, uncomfortable with this line of discussion. 

“Third, you are funny. You make me laugh and you help me to not take life so seriously…”

“Ford…”

“Fourth,” Ford starts, but Stan cuts him off, trying to pull away from his twin as he interrupts, “Stop! Stop, stop, _stop_! This is-! This is _nuts_! Stanford, you can’t possibly-!”

Stan’s words end as Ford’s mouth finds his. He kisses him, light and quick, but it’s enough to draw Stan up short, to freeze everything in him. Ford smiles against his mouth, “I can. I do. I want you, Stanley. I need you. Please? Please be mine?”

He gets a loud gulp in answer and Ford presses on, “Why is it so impossible for me to want you? For me to love you?”

“I…I dunno,” Stan grumbles almost inaudibly and Ford kisses him again before whispering, “That’s because it’s not, Stanley. It’s not impossible. You deserve this. Don’t you see? You _deserve_ it.”

Stan absolutely hates that his eyes prick up with tears at this. Another kiss and then, “All you have to do is say yes.”

“Yes?”

“Hmm…but without it being a question,” Ford clarifies and Stan feels himself melt, feels himself say it with confidence, “Yes.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Number 39. You’re an idiot. I’ve met smarter sandwiches. Coffee Stains and Cigarettes verse. Post series but not canon in that verse, just set there. Stan and Preston - Prestan

“No!” Preston cries as if this is the utmost scandal, “No, no, no! Absolutely not! No!”

“Five ‘no’s?” Stan asks with raised eyebrows, “Is that really necessary?”

Ford smirks, “Come on, Preston. You know the rules.”

“I know that I don’t kiss anyone several digits below my IQ.”

“You sayin’ I’m dumb?” Stan asks the question without heat and Preston _needs_ that heat. For once he needs Stanley to be the angry animal he’s come to know, so he does his best to needle him there, “You’re an idiot! I’ve met smarter sandwiches!”

He expects this will be the insult to tip him off, but instead Stanley has the audacity to _laugh_. And when he laughs…

Preston is _not_ attracted to the Pines twins. But…okay. Well. If he _was_ – he would be far more attracted to Ford. Ford is smart and simple. Ford has soft eyes and shy smiles and a bitable bottom lip. He’s not…big. 

Stan is…larger. Not by much, but he has corded muscles from his construction work and a slight tan from prolonged exposure to the sun. He has little nicks and cuts along his skin - scabbed wounds earned from hard work. Work where he uses his _hands_. His hands are probably rough. Preston can’t even imagine what those hands feel like…

…and his voice, deep and gruff and smoky and…

“Earth ta Scoorge McDuck! You in there swimming in your pool of gold or what?” Stan interrupts Preston’s thoughts and he glares at him. He also glares at the stupid empty Pitt Cola bottle that’s led to this misery. The entire group is having a small party in the apartment and someone (Rick, let’s be honest – it was _Rick_ ) came up with the brilliant idea to play Spin the Bottle. Preston was highly against it and yet, somehow, someway, was dragged into it.

Mainly because Rick manhandled him into holding his seat while he, quote, ‘takes a piss, because my eyeballs are about to float out of my sockets’.  The first few spins were easy to avoid. Fidds and Shandra shared a kiss, Birdperson and Squanchy, Susan and Ford and now here’s Preston with a bottle pointing at Stanley. Rick returns from the restroom and belches loudly before asking, “What-what I miss?”

“You missed your turn,” Preston hisses and points to Stan, “Kiss him, will you?”

“My-my- _hic_! My pleasure!” Rick hoots and goes for Stan only for Ford to stop him, “Hey, hey! No! _You_ didn’t spin the bottle! _Preston_ did.”

Rick looks ready to argue but Ford shoots him a meaningful look, “Rick – you’ve kissed Stan before. You’ve also kissed…hell, is there anyone here you _haven’t_ kissed?”

“Nah, don’t think so. You – you guys spin and I kiss whoever the bottle lands on. That’s-that’s ho-how this shit works ami-amiright?”

Susan giggles, “Not really.”

“If you want to go off that logic, you have a lot of kisses ta catch up on,” Fidds remarks smoothly, “And ya ain’t ever kissed me or Preston. I’ve kept track.”

“WHAT?!” Rick cries with outrage as he turns to Fidds, “I haven’t kissed you yet?!”

Fidds smirks, “Nope. Plan ta keep it that way too. On accounta how badly I know ya want ta.”

“You-you’re a cruel sonofabitch, McGucket. You know that?” Rick snaps and Susan gently pats her boyfriend’s arm, “Maybe you should give him a go, Fidds. I’ve kissed him! It was very nice!”

“Ye-yeah! Listen…listen to our girlfriend!”

“She’s _my_ girlfriend, Rick,” Fidds laughs and Rick pouts, “Could-could be _ours_ if you’d…you’d just let me be a part of it.”

“Who says I ain’t thinkin’ ‘bout it?” Fidds teases and Rick _actually_ colors some. Preston’s glad for the distraction, more than ready to slip out and away from all of this, when Ford opens his big mouth, “Hold up! We’re getting off track! Preston! You owe Stan a kiss.”

“I’m – I’m not kissing that – that _brute_!”

Stan smirks and gets to his feet. He walks over to where Preston sits and gets up in his face, one hand on the back of Preston’s chair, the other cupping his face, “Fair enough. How’s about this ‘brute’ kisses you?”

“I-!” Preston doesn’t get in another word because Stan is kissing him. And it’s not just a light peck either. He slants his head and with his gentle (but slightly rough – his hands _are_ rough) grip he coaxes Preston’s jaw down, just enough to encourage him to open his mouth, to let Stan’s tongue slide slickly in.

Preston lets out a muffled noise as his own tongue is touched by another. And then his hands…Preston’s palms are sweaty and he realizes he’s been clinging to the bottom of his seat for dear life for a while now. But now? Now they rise - his slim fingers sort of…reaching out and entangling in thick strands of long brown hair. The fingers curl, pull, and Preston lets out another noise, a deeper one because he starts kissing back.

His experience with kissing is limited, but he can tell Stan likes his participation because a deep growl resounds from his chest and Preston feels a shocking thrill at the sound of it. Even more so when suddenly there are thick arms around him and he’s being raised up into standing. He’s crushed against a broad, firm body and there’s a sound coming from somewhere – hooting and hollering and he realizes vaguely that it’s coming from all around him.

But then those sounds fade away and there’s only him and there’s only Stanley.

…Stanley.

Oh shit! He’s kissing…he’s being kissed by-!

Everything seems to snap and slam back into him and Preston’s eyes pop back open (he doesn’t even remember _closing_ them) to see that Stan’s kissing him and the party around them is cheering them on. Even Ford looks happy about it, which is absurd, because Stan is Ford’s boyfriend and not-! Not-!

Preston abruptly pushes Stan away, who stumbles a little. He wipes at his lips and ignores how his traitorous heart bounces about his body as he mumbles, “Fine, fine! That’s- that’s enough, yes?!”

Ford comes over to Preston and playfully punches his arm, “See? Was that so bad? Stan’s a great kisser!”

He edges closer and breathes into Preston’s ear, “Trust me…I _know_!”

Rick comes over and holds out his flask to Preston, “H-Here. Take a…take a sip of this.”

Preston takes it and watches Ford tug Stan off. They go to their room to do god knows what and Preston stands there, still sort of shell shocked. Rick throws and arm around his shoulders, “That was one hell of a kiss, buddy. I’ve – I’ve been on the receiving end of that – so III _IIIIIIIII-urp_! I get you. Get how you feel.”

Preston looks at the flask and then takes a big swig before returning it, “Yeah…”

“Hey – hey, don’t- don’t be sad, man! ‘S just a game. That’s…that’s all this life shit is. Or…or some greeting card philosophic shit like-like that,” Rick drinks more of the flask and some of it dribbles down his chin, “How’s…how’s about we drop the bottle game and-and switch to poker?”

“I would find that amenable,” Preston remarks and Rick gives him a wild grin before smacking him firmly on the back, “Great! Win-winner kisses Fidds!”

Rick turns to Fidds, “You – you up for that?”

Fidds has a very predatory look in his eyes, “Sure. Why not?”

“Allllllriiiiiiiight!” Rick hoots.

Several hands (and many attempts at cheating later) Rick scowls as Preston (much to his shock) finds himself in yet _another_ situation where he’s kissing someone.


End file.
